


Microwave Mac and Cheese

by glyphsbowtie



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M, Microwave food, Secret Crush, festive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 13:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glyphsbowtie/pseuds/glyphsbowtie
Summary: “It’s hardly like you celebrate Christmas, surely.”“Nor, apparently, do you.” He gestures around the apartment vaguely, apparently indicating the lack of tree or lights. “Missing my brother?”Jane does laugh at that; she doesn’t really know where the dark sound comes from, but it’s lacking humour. “No.”





	Microwave Mac and Cheese

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis_Day](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Day/gifts).



> For the Marvel Holiday Swap :)

The snow is turning to ice on the windowsill outside, and Jane sits alone, tracing shapes in the chilly mist on the glass. It’s Christmas, but it doesn’t  _ feel _ like Christmas; since she asked Thor to stop visiting, everything has felt wrong.

Whatever she’d had with him- and it feels incongruous to call it a relationship, when it wasn’t that, not really- isn’t what she misses.

She has a horrible feeling that what she misses is his damned brother.

It hasn’t ever made sense, and Jane almost laughs at herself, taking another sip of the glass of wine she’s holding. Every woman should want to be with the good guy. The hero. That’s why she spent so much time trying to make things work with Thor.

Sighing, she uncurls from her spot on the window and pads into the kitchen. It’s getting dark outside, and she should probably make some dinner. The apartment is cold and sterile. She didn’t see the point in hanging Christmas decorations this year when she’s feeling so unfestive and miserable.

Maybe next year will be better.

She opens the freezer and shifts through the pile of ready meals in there, unsure what particular style of miserable brown mush is going to be most appealing today. Realistically, she knows she’s being pathetic, but she can’t help herself.

“What are you doing?”

She freezes, hands curling defensively around a box of microwave mac and cheese. She knows that voice- smooth and haughty, enough to make the hairs on her arms stand up. She hasn’t heard it in so long.

“You couldn’t knock?” she manages. She’s trembling, trying to bring herself to turn around.

Perhaps he’s here to attack her. She doubts it, and the idea makes her smile for the first time in months.

“Turn around,” he orders, softly.

She does, swallowing. Loki is sat cross-legged on her counter, long hair framing a surprisingly tender expression. He’s wearing a suit, his green tie complimenting his eyes, which are glowing as he looks at her.

“Hello,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. She wants to ask what he’s doing here looking at her  _ like that,  _ but she can’t quite bring herself to utter those words.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” he snorts, the edges of his mouth turning up slightly.

She tries hard not to smile back at him. “It’s hardly like you celebrate Christmas, surely.”

“Nor, apparently, do you.” He gestures around the apartment vaguely, apparently indicating the lack of tree or lights. “Missing my brother?”

Jane does laugh at that; she doesn’t really know where the dark sound comes from, but it’s lacking humour. “No.”

He shifts his weight slightly, one long hand coming up to push his hair behind his ear. The gesture is deliberate and slow, and Jane watches his fingers intently. They’re delicate. Is it possible for someone to have beautiful hands?

Fuck.

Jane is suddenly very aware of the fact that she’s standing in her kitchen in her sweats and a baggy t-shirt, clutching a box of frozen mac and cheese, facing the beautiful man she’s been trying  _ so hard _ not to dream about for months.

“I can hear you, you know,” Loki announces suddenly.

“What?” Panic rockets through her, making her tighten her grip on the box in her hands automatically. He can hear her thoughts?

He smirks, as though he’s absolutely aware of what she’s thinking. “Not your specific thoughts. Don’t panic. But I can hear… I can feel how much you long for me.”

The words hang in the air between them.

“I think I always could. I just tried to… ignore it, while you were with him.”

She’s shaking her head. “No. What? No. That’s- of course I don’t-”

His smirk deepens, creasing the edges of his eyes. “You’re blushing, my love.”

She takes a step back, bumping into the freezer. Her cheeks are burning. She’s trying to ignore that term of endearment- it means nothing, not from him- but her heart is starting to race.

“Stop it,” she says, and the words come out firmer than she expects.

He unfolds his legs, swinging them over the edge of the counter. “There’s no shame in it, Jane.”

“In what?” she asks.

Loki stands up, and he’s so tall. She had forgotten, but here he is in her kitchen of all places, towering quite confidently over her. The kitchen isn’t huge. At the moment, she’s just out of reach of his long arms, but if he moves closer…

“In how you feel,” he tells her, and takes a step towards her.

“Back off,” she snarls, automatically.

He pauses, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He’s so close now that she can smell him; he’s wearing cologne, but there’s the distantly familiar scent of him beneath that, the scent of leather and licorice.

“What… what do you want?” Jane asks.

His eyes widen. “I thought that was obvious, my love.”

Jane resists the urge to roll her eyes. “So far, you’ve broken into my apartment and made lots of cryptic references to how I apparently feel.”

“Allow me to be clear, then,” he shrugs.

He closes the space between them and kisses her. She’s pressed against the freezer, but she’s not trapped; everything about the kiss is gentle, tentative. One of his hands comes up to caress her cheek as his soft, cool lips press against her mouth.

Jane can’t resist; she’s spent months, if not longer, trying to convince herself that she doesn’t want this- doesn’t want  _ him,  _ Loki, the dark and occasionally very dangerous monster. But she can’t deny how she feels when he’s kissing her like this.

She tangles her fingers in the silky fall of his hair, relishing how soft it is beneath her touch. He groans, deepening the kiss, dipping the point of his tongue into her mouth. She’s breathless beneath him, her whole body electrified.

“Was that clear enough?” he whispers against her mouth.

Jane swallows. “Yes.”

“Marvellous.” He draws back, and plucks the box from her hands, eyeing it suspiciously. “What is this? Is this dinner?”

She blinks, wrong-footed by the change of topic. She’s still panting against her own freezer, her mouth full of the taste of him. “Yes?”

“This is acceptable, I suppose,” he sighs.

Jane glares at him. “You can’t just break into people’s apartments and get all…  _ haughty _ about their food-”

“It’s Christmas, my love,” he says, his tone long-suffering. “I refuse to allow you to wallow in this place, eating this mysterious food.”

Jane’s head is full of questions, but her heart feels a light sort of joy it’s been missing for some time. She smiles. “We’ll eat mysterious food together,” she says.

Loki mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like  _ I’m a god, you know _ but he smiles at her. “Very well, my love.”


End file.
